


Incidentally

by Zoe Rayne (MontanaHarper)



Series: Diplomacy [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-20
Updated: 2005-06-20
Packaged: 2017-10-11 20:24:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/116720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MontanaHarper/pseuds/Zoe%20Rayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"Is it possible that those berries are hallucinogenic, do you think?" Rodney said when the kiss ended. "Because the only other explanation I can come up with is that we're in the middle of a bad porn movie and, adolescent fantasies aside, I'm pretty sure that kind of thing doesn't actually happen."</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Incidentally

"Is it possible that those berries are hallucinogenic, do you think?" Rodney said when the kiss ended. "Because the only other explanation I can come up with is that we're in the middle of a bad porn movie and, adolescent fantasies aside, I'm pretty sure that kind of thing doesn't actually happen."

One of Rodney's hands was resting lightly on John's arm, and John shivered at the touch. His jerk-off fantasy of Rodney's hand wrapped around his dick was suddenly, and very solidly, lodged in his brain and refusing to leave, no matter how inappropriate he told himself it was to be thinking about with Ford and Teyla sitting right there. Thankfully, they were both occupied with watching the spontaneous orgy that had broken out around them.

He still felt a little guilty about that; if he hadn't gotten hot and bothered just being near Rodney, the Intu—who appeared to be empaths—wouldn't be doing...wow, some pretty impressively flexible things, actually. He licked his lips, watching Eru and Tasu demonstrate that sixty-nine was apparently a truly universal concept.

Rodney's fingers closed around his wrist, tight enough that he thought there might be bruises in the morning, and when he looked up Rodney's eyes were wide.

"John?"

"Fuck," John groaned. Immediately he was presented with a vivid, Technicolor visual of Rodney fucking him. Christ. He hadn't even thought about that before. Now, though, he was pretty sure the image was going to haunt his dreams.

"Oh, God. Yes. Please?" Rodney said and pressed his other hand against the front of John's BDUs.

Much as John wanted to just drag Rodney up onto the table and swallow his dick, there was really no way he could get away with it. Elizabeth was already going to kill him for instigating the Intu orgy; molesting a member of his team—in public, no less—was a good way to get yanked from any further off-world missions.

"John," Rodney said again, his voice soft but urgent, and John's brain was once again filled with gorgeous, suggestive images involving one very naked and obviously turned-on astrophysicist.

John shook his head, trying to clear away the unnecessary and distracting visual aids. "Not out here." He pulled away and elbowed Ford. "I'm going to hit the hay, Lieutenant," he said, making a show of stretching and yawning.

Ford nodded, barely paying attention, and John grinned. Well, that was easy enough, wasn't it? He headed for the guest hut he and Rodney had dumped their gear in earlier, trusting Rodney to follow.

~ * ~ * ~

"What if this is just the effect of some kind of weird hallucinogenic alien aphrodisiac, giving us these—very intense and realistic, admittedly—porn movie visuals?" Rodney said into John's neck as he tugged the bottom of John's shirt out of his BDUs.

John was perfectly happy with his porn movie visuals, thank you very much. He didn't care where the hell they came from. It wasn't like he hadn't already been fantasizing about sex and Rodney—and sex _with_ Rodney; he'd just expanded his repertoire was all. Why the hell hadn't he thought about Rodney fucking him before? He really should have, because it was possibly the hottest thing he could imagine right this second.

"What if we wake up in the morning," Rodney moved back far enough to pull the shirt over John's head and off, "and we don't even like each other? What if we screw up your career and our working relationship in the process? And what if, after all that, the sex turns out to be really bad? Or worse, what if it's _mediocre_."

"Rodney?" John ground out, fumbling with the button and zipper on Rodney's BDUs, needing to touch skin _now_. "Shut up and fuck me."

Rodney froze suddenly, his eyes closing momentarily. "Jesus, John," he said, pushing John's hands away and backing up a step. "Jesus. You can't just say things like that. At least not if you want me to make it to the point where there's actual fucking going on." John's dick twitched at the words and he pressed the heel of his hand against it to dull the ache. "And then there's still the whole 'alien aphrodisiac' thing...."

John shook his head and said, with certainty, "There's no alien aphrodisiac."

"How do you _know_? I mean, who knows what's in so-called food that's native to a strange galaxy where humanity didn't actually evolve on its own?" Despite his words, Rodney was working to undo his own BDUs. "There _could_ be alien aphrodisiacs—"

"I know because thinking about you always makes me hard," John said, cutting him off, and Rodney looked...surprised? shocked? John pushed on, "You're my daily jerk-off fantasy, okay? Your hands, your ass."

Rodney's hands stilled. "How long?" he asked.

"Weeks," John said, closing his eyes so he wouldn't have to see Rodney's expression. "Months, maybe."

Then Rodney's hands were back on him, smoothing over his stomach and chest, cupping his face, and Rodney was kissing him, deep and wet and _wanting_. "Months?" Rodney asked between kisses. "You've wanted me for months, and yet there's been a frustratingly consistent lack of dating and sex in my life during that time. What's wrong with this picture?"

John tugged Rodney's shirt off. "I wasn't sure you were interested. And it's a really bad idea, anyway."

"A bad idea? Right. Which is why you're rock hard and asking me to fuck you." And then Rodney's hand was in his pants, Rodney's fingers wrapped around his dick, and any possibility of rational thought vanished as John's jerk-off fantasy became something more substantial, something real.

"My mistake," he ground out as he came. "Best idea ever."

Rodney laughed breathlessly as they leaned on each other for support. "How many times do I have to tell you? I'm brilliant," he said, taking his shirt from John and wiping his hand on it before dropping it on the ground.

"No," John said, shaking his head. His pulse was pounding and his legs were protesting against the idea of standing, but he still wanted more. "If you were really brilliant, I'd be bent over that table with your dick up my ass, and I'd be screaming your name."

Rodney shivered against him. "I'm going to have to get you a gag, aren't I?" he said, his voice low and rough. Without really pausing, he continued, "Yes. If I ever want to do anything with you that doesn't involve coming in my pants, you're clearly going to need to be gagged."

John grinned. "That close, huh?" he said, then sank down onto the woven sleeping mat, tugging on Rodney's hand until Rodney gave in and sat down beside him.

"You're far too smug about this, Major," Rodney said, looking at him sideways. "Maybe you're right; this is probably a very bad idea. I shouldn't be feeding your ego. It would cause endless problems if your head swelled to the point where it wouldn't fit through the stargate."

"Shut up," John said fondly, deciding that the time-honored tradition of kissing someone to shut them up was probably his best bet. Pushing Rodney's boxers out of the way, he wrapped his hand around Rodney's dick and stroked him, slow and firm, until Rodney was writhing against him. When Rodney came, John swallowed his moans, then licked his own fingers clean.

"You really think mediocre sex is worse than bad sex?" John asked later, his hand idly stroking up and down Rodney's back.

"Mmmm," Rodney mumbled into John's collarbone. "Absolutely. At least bad sex is memorable, and if it's spectacularly bad you can tell the story at parties and people give you alcohol and say sympathetic things. Mediocre sex? No entertainment value whatsoever—not during and not even afterwards."

John thought about that for a minute. It made a weird kind of sense. It made a _Rodney McKay_ kind of sense, actually. "You're weird, you know that?" he said.

Rodney turned his head and pressed a kiss into John's shoulder. "Of course. I like you, don't I?"


End file.
